


spellbound

by katarasvevo



Category: To All the Boys I've Loved Before Series - Jenny Han, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: F/M, im here for pining! peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 20:18:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15871011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarasvevo/pseuds/katarasvevo
Summary: Peter falls in love with Lara Jean in five different ways.





	spellbound

**i. eyes**

There’s this girl who sits next to Gen at the cafeteria every day, and she’s the prettiest person Peter’s ever seen. Her name is Lara Jean, and she has eyes the colour of the night sky after twilight has long gone - darker than an ink spill. She hardly talks to anyone outside her group, and she comes off as shy for the most part. Sometimes, no one’s there with her - a cue for Peter to slip in, talk to her, maybe, but he doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to do it.

Rejection, sure. The cold shoulder’s a valid reason, too. But see, here’s where Peter’s excuses are flawed, because Lara Jean isn’t the type of person to do either of those things. She’s much too nice for that. Has always been. Plus, in order for the cold shoulder to actually happen, Peter’s pretty sure bad blood has to be involved, which isn’t possible in this case, because first of all, they don’t know each other.

And secondly, no history exists between them.

So, cowardice. It’s cowardice, definitely.

Peter just needs the courage to talk to her. And he shouldn’t even need it, because the words “intimidating” and “Lara Jean” mix as well as oil and water. They’re simply incompatible.

Luckily, it’s Gen who does the work for him. Unintentionally, of course; it’s no secret that Gen kind of, sort of has a crush on him. Like, a really big one. The other boys in his grade say that polite etiquette dictates that he should go along with it, pretend to feel the same way, so naturally that’s what Peter does.

The only bad part is that it results in Gen being totally convinced that their feelings are mutual. _O-kay._

So when the party arrives - with Peter, Gen, Lara Jean, and all their other friends - and they play Spin the Bottle, and Lara Jean’s bottle points towards him - _yes, him!_ \- he’s more than glad that fate decided to throw him a helping hand, if Peter’s going to be completely honest.

Gen looks sulky even when Lara Jean offers to spin the bottle again, but hell if Peter doesn’t take up this chance when it’s being offered to him on a silver platter.

“It’s destiny, Lara Jean,” Peter says, offering her a wide grin. “You really think it’s a good idea to cheat it?”

Lara Jean blushes prettily, rose-pink blooming on her face, and just when Peter thinks she’s going to back out, she leans right in, his features reflected in her dark eyes, and when their mouths meet Peter honest-to-god falls in love. Head over heels.

 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

**ii. hand**

 

Their school is hosting a play about fairies, witches, royalty, and knights, and Peter gets chosen to be a bodyguard for the castle the villains of the story are after. Practices are held after school, a few days a week, and it’s fun, for the most part. Not ideal, but Peter’ll take it; his friends are here - Lara Jean, too, though they’re not really close that way - so he might as well make the most out of it.

As expected, it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows; their teacher is too easy on them, some kids have taken to goofing around, so not much gets done on a regular basis. People turn up, forget a paragraph’s worth of lines or two, and then the whole scenario has to be redone over and over again.

And then a couple days before the play comes on, the actress for the role of the princess contracts a mysterious illness, and suddenly it’s looking like the show can’t go on. Until -

“Lara Jean, you’re swapping roles with Leslie,” the stage director orders as they’re gearing up to re-enact the opening sequence. “I don’t think she’s going to make it. Girl’s lost her voice, poor thing.”

Peter looks up from where he’s buckling on fake metal boots, and sees Lara Jean look down at the script now in her hands, brows furrowed. Peter thinks his heart maybe skips a beat. Or two.

And it almost stops entirely when, three grueling hours later, they finally arrive at the part where his character encounters the princess in a moonlit glade, all fireflies and gemstone flowers and iridescent mushrooms.

There’s Lara Jean framed against the gently curling foliage, clad in voluminous swathes of gossamer. And here’s Peter parting the entrance to the glade, plastic sword in hand, spellbound.

Lara Jean - no, the princess - widens her dusk-toned eyes at him. She’s got on a confused twist to her features, and her hands remain firmly at her sides. “Who are you, if I may ask? Why have you trespassed upon my domain?”

In the silver-blue lighting, Lara Jean looks regal. Like an actual princess.

So Peter doesn’t feel nearly as stupid, saying, “My name’s of no consequence, Your Highness. I’ve come here to enlist your help, at the behest of your ailing father,” while getting down on one knee and keeping his gaze on her entreatingly.

“Is that - is that so?” she says, and their teacher nods at this, the slight stutter. It’s a nice touch.

“I’m afraid that’s the case,” he says, placing a fisted hand over his heart, while reaching out for her palm using his other.

 _Her hand._ It’s distinctly smaller than his. And so soft, he notices. Warm, too.

“Very well. Lead on, good sir.”

“As you wish,” he says, kneeling down to brush his lips across her knuckles. Then, he adds, “Princess,” with a cheeky smile because he can’t help himself.

It’s not part of the script, but who cares, right?

At this, Lara Jean averts her gaze shyly, and then suddenly there’s a small part of Peter that starts wondering what she’d say if he asked to keep their hands this way.

 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

**iii. voice**

 

Freshman year, they’re assigned to the same pair of desks in math class, and Peter is beyond grateful. He sucks at this - problem-solving, formulas, and equations - but Lara Jean doesn’t, the complete opposite of him, so it’s nice having someone who clearly knows her numbers.

One moment he’s stumbling through quadratics, a lost boy fumbling blindly in the dark, and the next Lara Jean’s guiding him through it all, a beacon of hope in a storm. He never gets what the teacher is saying, but that’s okay; Lara Jean is all he needs to understand. A refresher from her, and he’s suddenly Terence Tao. Or Einstein. Or someone.

Okay, maybe not them. But close enough.

Since they’re literally right next to each other - and for at least a whole hour a day, at that - they end up talking a lot, actually. Not just about school work, but real stuff. Friends, family. Hobbies, interests. _What are you doing this weekend, have you seen this movie, did you know that Madison from chem class joked to everyone that his brother got herpes?_

He could listen to her voice all day, Peter thinks.

One class, Peter leaves her a secret note, just for the sake of it, but when Lara Jean finds it, she assumes it’s him, right off the bat.

“I know this is you, Peter,” Lara Jean says, mouth curving softly, sliding the paper back to his desk. “I like you, Lara Jean, please go out with me. XOXO mysterious stranger - seriously? You gotta do a lot better than that.”

“Aw, is this is a rejection?” Peter says, and he does a pout. “Ach, you’re breaking my heart, Covey. Didn’t know you had it in you to go there. After all we’ve been through: does the play not ring any bells?”

Lara Jean’s nose scrunches, like she’s just remembered a particularly embarrassing memory.

Peter lets out a sigh of fake despair, says, “So, it’s a no? A firm, straight no?” and when Lara Jean laughs - a bubbly, effervescent laugh - Peter’s smile fades, slowly, and he finds himself entranced, drawn to the dimple on the left side of her mouth.

The smooth line of her neck. The teasing arch of her eyebrows. The way she says his name afterwards.

_Peter, Peter, Peter._

 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

**iv. lips**

 

Peter’s running out of excuses. He knows it’s time.

It’s been four years, and he’s more than ready to let the cat out of the bag. Not that it was ever locked there in the first place. At least, in the eyes of anyone who isn’t Lara Jean. Everyone knows it. Gen knows it - her more than anyone. Two months of them dating have done little to change his feelings. If anything, they’ve made them grow even more.

Because him and Gen, they just weren’t right together; like, it was fun while it lasted, but Peter never saw it going anywhere besides a place to crash and burn. That was always the end he’d envisioned - ever since he put two-and-two together, figured they were both getting bored along the way; like, picture this: they’re together, right, happy as can be, but then Gen meets some college boy, and they’re suddenly calling it quits.

Game over, end of story. And you know what, that’s fine with Peter. At least Gen was honest about it.

So Peter makes up his mind to tell Lara Jean soon.

He thinks about it when he watches Lara Jean walk down the hallways, her nose in a book like she doesn’t want to be noticed.

He thinks about it when he watches Lara Jean run down the tracks in gym class, gaze locked on the tail end of the fluttering blue ribbon she sometimes twines into her hair.

He thinks about it when they talk together in odd places, drawn to the shade of her lipgloss, the type that, up close, glistens like lamplight oiling rainwater-soaked ironwork.

God. He wants to kiss her. So, so bad.

 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

**v. body & soul**

 

He eventually ends up doing it.

The confessing, that is. But because it’s him, he kind of has an obligation to add a little bit of flair. Not much. Just the right amount, if he does say so himself.

One evening, he drives to her house when she says her family isn’t home, and throws gummy bears at where he thinks her window is. He’d have done rocks, to stick to tradition, but figured Lara Jean wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. What if he accidentally broke the window?

So candy it was.

“Hey, Rapunzel, please let down your magical, super long hair!” Peter half-whispers, half-shouts. “I promise I’m not the creepy witch who stole you away from your home! Cross my heart and hope to die!”

A window opens. But it isn’t the one Peter’s been aiming at. Oops.

“Wrong window, Kavinsky,” Lara Jean calls out, bracing her arms against the windowsill. Her hair is down, and it frames her face nicely. There’s an amused smile on her face. “And just letting you know, you’re going to have to clean that. My dad isn’t going to be happy when he finds out.”

“But it’s all the way up there,” Peter says.

Lara Jean shrugs. “Guess you’re in for a little climb, then.”

“Challenge accepted,” Peter says serenely, and he actually ends up doing it, clambering up to her roof at nine in the evening, and when Lara Jean says, “Um, you know that I didn’t actually mean it,” Peter chuckles, “Too late for that, don’t you think?”

There’s a pause, in that moment. A five-second-long, starlit pause. And then:

“Seriously, why are you here, Peter?” Lara Jean asks, and Peter can feel his pulse acting up at this: seeing her face illuminated by the white-gold moonlight. Listening to her voice so near and close.

“Just wanted to let a certain someone know that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, and he meant it to come off suave, but it turns out _breathless_ , more _flustered teenage boy_ instead of _cool smoothtalker._

Those pretty eyes widen infinitesimally. “You have to be kidding me.” Lara Jean’s tone is soft, shy. Stretched-thin. “ _Peter._ No jokes, please. Be honest.”

Peter tilts his head. “Can’t a guy have that as a real reason?”

“So. You, um - you … mean it,” Lara Jean says slowly, and the good news is there’s no disbelief coating her words. Just surprise. And awe. Mostly surprise.

“Always, Covey,” Peter says, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face.

There’s the moon and stars reflected in Lara Jean’s eyes. And they are bright, and radiant, but nothing compared to the smile Lara Jean is giving him. Nothing compared to the glow that particular smile is filling him with.

His fingers wrap around her wrist. Gently, he pulls her palm towards his face and gives it the barest hint of a kiss. “Princess,” he whispers in a low, rough voice, that he hopes lets Lara Jean know exactly how he feels about her.

“Kavinsky,” Lara Jean says, surprising him by leaning out the window to initiate their first mouth-to-mouth kiss.

It is everything Peter thought it would be. Warm, and slow, and sweet. Lara Jean kisses like she means to, like she knows exactly what she wants, and Peter gives back as good as he gets, lets her mouth parts into his own, languid and almost needy.

They pull back after a while, their chests heaving slightly, and eventually Lara Jean says, “My dad. And sister. They’re going to be home soon.”

Peter leans in for another kiss, grinning wickedly. “Gonna let me into your room then?”

Lara Jean giggles, blocking his lips with a palm. “Uh, in your dreams. Good night, Peter.”

“As you wish. See you tomorrow, then,” he says, and it occurs to Peter he’ll never stop wanting her, all of her.

Body and soul.

 

**Author's Note:**

> im rlly out here writing more and being unapologetically shameless abt that princess bride reference yeA BOI *clutches chest*


End file.
